


Typical

by LaVieEnRose



Series: The One Where Justin Loses His Hearing [70]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Chronic Illness, Deaf Character, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 08:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16446137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaVieEnRose/pseuds/LaVieEnRose
Summary: What a normal, non-crisis day looks like for the Taylor/Kinney household nowadays.





	Typical

**Author's Note:**

> look you said you wanted one where nothing happens.

_8:05 AM_

I woke up to the feeling of Brian's nose against my cheek, and I raised my chin to meet my lips with his without opening my eyes. My head was pounding, but just softly in the background, nothing unmanageable. I smiled and hummed as Brian's lips moved down to my throat, and I just lay there feeling every bit of that for a minute before I felt awake enough to open my eyes and start my day with some naked Brian.

He was not naked, so that sucked. He was already in his suit, every hair in place, his briefcase in one hand and my meds in the other. I frowned a little as I sat up. I don't get up every morning when Brian does, but I usually do, and I make coffee and force him to eat a piece of fruit and, you know, straighten his tie and chit chat with him about what's in the paper, suck him off if we have time. It's kind of stupid, but I like it. And even if I don't feel up to getting out of bed first thing, I almost always wake up when he does, and, you know, throw things at him from my sick bed until he agrees to eat a piece of fruit.

 **I didn't even feel you get up,** I said.

He nodded, handing me my pills and a glass of water. **Yeah, you were really sleeping.** He kissed me after I'd taken them. **You okay?**

**Yeah, just tired.**

**Okay.** He nuzzled the side of my head and gave me a rough kiss on the ear. **I've got to run, I have that hardware meeting at nine.**

I yawned. **Kinky.**

**What are you doing today?**

**I have lunch with my agent, and therapy later. And I want to go to the studio and get some work done.** I yawned again, Christ. **And sleep.**

He laughed. **Okay. Text me if you want me to bring home dinner.**

 **No, I'll make something.** I flopped back down on the pillows. **Bye, darling.**

He pulled the comforter all the way up over my head on his way out the door.

**

_8:32 AM_

I woke up to my phone buzzing under my pillow, and I groaned as I unearthed it. **Brian,** it informed me, along with a picture of Brian slack-jawed on a pillow with the worst bedhead you can possible imagine. He's always threatening to delete that picture off my phone when I'm sleeping. As if I couldn't get another one in a second! He' bitches at me about snoring but he's the one who drools everywhere. No wonder he's never let guys sleep over. He's so embarrassing. All of Pittsburgh and half of New York would have blackmail material.

I hit accept and there he was sitting at his desk, still looking perfect. And guilty. He shined this big smile at me. I prefer the drooling version to this bullshit.

 **Noooo,** I fingerspelled, with plenty of Os.

He kept smiling. **Hi. My lovely partner. The apple of my eye. My sweet, sweet Justin.**

I glared at him.

He said, **You look really nice today, did I mention?**

**God, enough. What did you forget?**

**The file for this meeting. It's on my desk.**

**And when can I expect Emily here to pick it up?** I said, mimicking that simpering fucking smile of his.

 **The meeting's at nine,** he said. **She doesn't have time to get there and back.**

I hauled myself out of bed. **I swear, I am going to start stapling your fucking belongings to you—**

**Take the train, it'll be faster.**

**Fuck you, I'll take whatever I want.** It was going to be the train. It was faster.

 **You're gorgeous! Hurry your lazy ass up!** he said, and I rolled my eyes and hung up.

**

_8:45 AM_

I was reading through this file on the subway because good Lord was I bored and I had nothing else to do, but wow, this file was just making me bored-er. I have no idea why Brian likes his job.

The woman next to me tapped me on the shoulder and made a face like she was asking me for a favor. I got “I'm sorry,” at the beginning and that was it.

I signed, **Sorry, Deaf.** Most people recognize the sign for **Deaf,** or at least can suss it out. Or maybe they just use good deductive reasoning skills to figure out why someone is signing at them.

She kind of stumbled over what looked like an apology, like people usually do.

I cleared my throat. “Do you need directions?”

She nodded.

“Here, I have this...” I took out my phone and opened it up to the subway app.

She crowded in close to me to look at it. “Oh, thank you. Um...”

I showed her the sign.

 **Thank you,** she said, and I smiled at her.

**

_8:51 AM_

I waved to Emily and kissed my fingers and tapped them on her stomach on my way to Brian's office and walked backwards down the hall so she could go on and on reminding me about her ultrasound appointment tomorrow. I backed straight into Steve, one of the social media guys, and he gave me this suuuuuper irritated look and Emily had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from cracking up. I made a face at her and imitated Steve's pissy walk the rest of the way to Brian's office.

“Help has arrived!” I announced, arms spread wide.

Brian raised any eyebrow.

I spun in a circle. “It's J.T., here to save to save our intrepid hero!”

Brian shook his head. **That was too many Rs. You need to ration yourself.**

“Neverrrrr!”

He held out his hand for the file and I brought it over. **Thank you,** he said.

**Yeah, yeah.**

He gave me a nauseatingly sincere look. **Have I mentioned lately that I love you?**

**I don't know, you say it so often, who could possibly keep track.**

He snickered. **Seriously, you saved my ass with this. So, take your pants off.**

**Your meeting's in...seven minutes.**

**Is that a challenge?**

**I do believe it is, Mr. Kinney.**

He yanked me around to his side of the desk.

**

_9:48 AM_

I stopped for coffee on my way back home. The barista I know wasn't there, and instead it was some kid who looked barely out of high school. I typed up what I wanted on my phone and showed it to him, and he asked me a question, looking down at the register.

I said, **Sorry, I'm Deaf,** but he wasn't looking at me. He asked it again, so I took my phone and typed, _could you write it down? I'm Deaf,_ but before I could show it to him he rolled his eyes and motioned to the next person in line.

My coffee wasn't what I ordered, but I drank it anyway.

**

_10:11 AM_

Sleep.

**

_12:20 PM_

“So the Village Voice wants to do a write-up on this,” Annie, my agent said, while I watched the interpreter. “They've been wanting to do a feature on artists with disabilities and they think this is the perfect lynchpin.”

 **Disabled artists,** I corrected.

“I'm sorry?”

I shrugged. **Never mind.**

“And there's an Epilepsy Advocate magazine and they want to talk to you. I think it's possible we could talk them up to a cover story. I'm going to do my best.”

 **I want to make sure they show a few of my other paintings too,** I said. **The train tracks, the big canvas. Maybe one of the Brian ones. So I don't come off like some sort of...one-trick epilepsy pony.**

“I completely agree with you,” Annie said, and I took a deep breath and nodded.

**

_1:35 PM_

My phone started flashing while I was mixing up the perfect shade of cerulean. Brian again. I put my paintbrush in my mouth and answered.

He was walking down some sidewalk. **Hey, where are you?** he said.

I looked sloooooowly around the studio. **Hmm, paint, painting clothes, paintbrush, painting...**

He rolled his eyes. **Turns out I have to meet a client in Manhattan for lunch. I'm up by seventieth and seventh. Come meet me and fuck me in the bathroom.**

I took my paintbrush out of my mouth and made a “Pshh,” noise, hopefully. “No, but you can come meet me and fuck me at the studio.”

He glared at me.

 **I went all the way out to your office for you today already!** I said. **Your turn.**

He kept glaring and hung up.

**

_2:40 PM_

Brian waltzed into my studio like fuckin' sexual energy incarnated and slammed his mouth against mine. **Fucker would not shut up,** he said, working the buttons on his shirt. **Fucking droning on and on about his awful marketing ideas...**

 **Clients are the worst,** I agreed.

He lifted me up by my thighs and set me on one of my tables and searched the hollow of my throat with his tongue. I tilted my head back and took a deep breath.

 **What time's therapy?** he asked, without taking his mouth off me.

“Not until four, we're fine.”

He kissed me, hands around my ears. **How was lunch with Annie?** He pulled his shirt off.

“I'm gonna be an Epilepsy Magazine cover boy.”

 **Good.** He tugged my shirt over my head.

“Is it?”

**Every mom with an epileptic kid's going to want one of your paintings. Show their kid what they can do. Your hand's going to fall off.**

“My poor epileptic hand.”

 **That's my boy,** Brian said, and he shoved me down on my back, one hand so, so carefully cupped around the back of my head.

**

_4:28 PM_

**So I can't really sort this out,** I said. **I don't know if this is just an internalized ableism thing I need to work through, or if it makes sense to be worried that this could really damage my career and set me up as someone whose paintings you buy when you want to support a cause, not when you want an actual great piece of art.**

 **I think there's a difference between how Brian and your agent are looking at it, and how you are,** Lauren said. **They're looking to market you, you're looking to market your art. Neither of those is wrong, but it's something you're going to have to figure out how you want to negotiate.**

 **They know what works,** I said. **It's their job.**

 **Have you stopped to think about what your goals are, as an artist?** she said. **Do you want to be famous?**

I paused. **I always...assumed I did. I mean, doesn't everybody?**

**Many people, sure.**

**I want people to hear what I have to say,** I said. **So to speak.**

She smiled a little.

**But there's a lot more I want to say besides “epilepsy is sad and scary.” Disability-positive stuff. Stuff that has nothing to do with disability at all. So if this is just a foot in the door, that's fine, but what if I...**

She waited.

 **What if this becomes all I am?** she said.

**How could it?**

**I don't know. What if all anyone will buy from me are seizure paintings?**

**Then you stop selling them,** she said.

I thought about it.

 **What's going to happen to you?** she said. **If you give this a shot, decide you don't like where it's going, and say, okay, no more epilepsy talk, no more Deaf talk, I won't make these paintings anymore, I won't take these questions.**

**Then the audience goes away.**

**But it wasn't an audience for what you wanted to say anyway. So you're not really losing anything.**

**My agent would be mad,** I said.

**Your agent works for you.**

**Still.**

She waited. **Would Brian be mad?**

I shook my head. **Brian would understand. He doesn't care if I make money.**

**So, really, what's the worst that could happen?**

I shrugged and picked a loose thread off a pillow.

 **You get caught up,** she told me. It wasn't the first time. **You worry about worst-case scenarios that you can't even put a finger on, just an abstract sense of dread that the worst could happen. But you have to look at what the worst really is. What's going to happen if your agent's mad at you? Do you think she'll hurt you?**

 **No, of course not.** I shook my head. **I just feel like any time something slightly bad happens I'm just going to die, or something.**

**Or anytime there's the possibility of something bad happening.**

**Yeah.**

**So all the time,** she said gently.

I sighed. **Yeah.**

**

_5:33 PM_

Sleep.

**

_7:25 PM_

I woke up feeling awful, just dizzy and nauseous and useless, and it took me a few deep breaths before I felt like I could sit up and ease myself out of bed. I stretched my my arms while I walked out to the kitchen to get started on dinner. Jambalaya, because you have to trick Brian into eating vegetables like he's a four-year-old.

He got home while I was sauteing the onions and bell pepper and celery and came up behind me in the kitchen, nuzzling behind my ear. I turned around and kissed him, just quick at first, but it never stays quick with us. He ran his hands through my hair and down my back, digging his fingertips into the sorest muscles. He can always find them.

 **How was your day?** I asked him.

He nodded, skimming his fingers under my shirt. **Good day. Hardware meeting went well. Hired a new mail room manager. Emily let me feel the baby kick.** He kissed my cheek. **She's like you in your sleep. Squirmy.** He tucked my hair behind my ears. **How are you?**

**I'm good.**

**Good. I need a shower.**

I gestured towards the stove.

 **Come in once it's simmering,** he said. He thumbed a spot on my wrist. **Want to get this paint off you.**

**So considerate.**

I added broth and rice to the jambalaya, turned the heat down to low, and joined Brian in the shower to get nice and clean and fucked, and then we got out and ate but I was feeling really shitty by then from the temperature changes and all the standing. I didn't say anything to Brian, but I wasn't trying to hide it, either, so he knew, but he also knew I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, so he didn't hover. He just sat down on the couch and turned on the TV and stretched one arm out over the top of the couch, like he had his arm around an invisible person. Yeah, well, fuck you invisible person. I settled down next to him with my head on his lap, and he played with my fingers while he turned on this ridiculously shitty CW show that I think we're never going to stop pretending we're watching ironically.

 **That guy's hot,** Brian said absently at one point, about the guest star of the week.

**Seriously?**

**What, you don't think so?**

**He looks like my old Chemistry teacher.**

**Uh, yeah, I remember him, he was hot.**

I rolled my eyes and thought about how Brian used to bring me to school a lot back when I was living at Debbie's. Sometimes I'd slept over the night before, on a couple of occasions he'd crashed with me in Michael's old room, but a lot of the times he'd just...come by in the mornings and pick me up and take me to school, like it was nothing. And it's not like it was on his way to work. It wasn't on any kind of schedule, so it's not like Debbie was making him do it. He'd just waltz in like he lived there, steal a few bites of whatever I was eating, banter back and forth with Vic, and then haul me up by my tie or my hair and put me in the Jeep. Sometimes we'd make out in front of the school like...well, teenagers, or I'd blow him at a stoplight or something, but a lot of the times we'd barely even touch on those trips. We just talked about a test I had or some dumb thing Michael had said or something Gus had learned how to do or whatever, and we'd go to the drive-thru Starbucks sometimes and then sit outside my school and drink coffee and Brian would make up sordid backstories on all the students and teachers who walked by.

It was kind of a magical time, in a way, that whole period when I was living at Debbie's and Brian and I were just getting closer and closer every single day but never talking about it, and it didn't feel like we were avoiding the subject or anything, it was just like...we didn't need to talk about it. We were like magnets getting pulled gradually together, and neither of us was worried about it. I mean, that was before my brains got scrambled, so I didn't worry about anything, and Brian...Brian liked having me around, and that was that.

I wish I could go back and tell that seventeen-year-old kid where we are now. I think he'd breeze right over the Deaf and disabled part once he heard that Brian and I were married.

And I could tell him not to go to prom, while I was at it.

Anyway.

 **I have to go,** he said when it was over, looking into my eyes while he messed with my bangs. **I told Travis I was going to meet him at Nova.**

**Okay.**

He leaned over and kissed me, so so softly. **You want to come?**

**No. I might go back to the studio for a while.**

He shook his head. **You're fading, stay home.**

**You just asked me to Nova!**

**Only because I knew you'd say no.**

I gnashed my teeth at him, and he grinned and kissed the bridge of my nose.

 **I'll be home late,** he said. **Gather your laundry, they're picking it up tomorrow.**

**Okay.**

**

_10:10 PM_

I'd finished cleaning the kitchen and gathering laundry and calling my mom, and by then there was no chance I was going back to the studio. I lay on the couch for a while because I felt so pathetic going to bed this early when I'd been sleeping all day anyway, swiping through Tinder looking for Deaf guys and half-watching whatever sitcom was on. Eventually my head started to really bother me, so I took my meds and washed my face and crawled into bed. I watched the streetlamp blinking irregularly from my window.

I missed Brian.

**

_2:18 AM_

I woke up to the feeling of Brian slipping into bed beside me. I rolled over and rubbed my cheek against his. **Did you have fun?** I said. I'd fallen asleep with the lights on, and Brian had turned off most of them but left the lamp on his nightstand on.

**Yeah, it was okay.**

I settled myself on his chest. **Good.** We lay like that for a while, kind of pawing at each other, each of us tired.

 **Feels like I barely saw you today,** he said after a while.

 **I know, it was weird,** I said.

He played with my hair. **Tomorrow will be better.**

I pushed my nose into his neck. **Can't wait.**


End file.
